The Wild Hunt
by Mr. E 13
Summary: Post Mockingjay. The war is over but a new threat looms over Panem, mutts. Left for dead the mutts have evolved, escaped and bred with the local wildlife creating new dangers to Panem. Can this new threat be contained or will humanity see its last days. Will Katniss and Peeta make it through another trial together or will this be the last hurrah for the starcrossed lovers of 12?
1. Prologue

Violence only begets more violence. Blood will flow eternal until the violence ends and peace is given a chance to take root. The violence had ended, and peace did take root for a moment, growing from the ground made fertile by the dead, our dead, our loved ones. However like so many things this too could not last forever.

This is no new battle, but a continuation of the war now known as the War of the Mockingjay. The capitol is settled and the districts have grown in population, health, and standards of living, no longer caged like animals.

Animals. That's what some may call them now, the new dangers that hunt us, animals, but they are more and less than that. Mutts, muttations hybrid plants and animals made by capitol scientists. Made for folly, made for weapons, made from the broken and harmless creatures of this world. They bred with our animals, making new threats we know nothing about, they mature unnaturally fast, savagely even. They thirst for blood, even now the hunger drives them deep into our lands, hunting now, killing.

We were so careless, all of us. These creatures made by the capitol were far more than we knew them to be. They evolve, they learn, and yet still resist pain and fatigue. They were left, left in their cages to die out, because no one was left who knew what to do with them, and we were all so tired of killing. However we should have known from experience, cages only hold so long. Desperation and the need to survive drove us to our evolution, our revolution, they were no different.

We were unprepared for this. So much of our time and energy went into strengthening the people, rebuilding, healing. No one was prepared for another battle this soon, it's been only a few months of peace, which shouldn't have a limit. This shouldn't be happening not now, my nightmares still echo with the cries of war, with images I can't stand to face, names that will be uttered no more, scars that are still healing.

I won't shut down though, and I wont become a spectacle for the public again. This time I will defend my loved ones with my own two hands. This time I will face the threat head on. To protect Peeta, Mom, Haymitch, Gale, district 12, Panem and the memory of those who got us this far, I won't stop, I can't.

My name is Katniss Everdeen, and this is my account of the Wild Hunt.


	2. Peeta and a Figthing Spirit

**Author's Note: The next two chapters are currently in progress. Updates may be slow but please stay with me, it has been a while since I have written anything and it may take me a couple chapters to adjust. Reviews are a great motivation. Thanks for taking time to read my story. Enjoy.**

"Prim!" I wake up screaming.

This is nothing new to me, or Peeta, who is there in seconds holding me, rubbing circles into my back, reigning me in. I'm grateful for him being so close, one bedroom away. Sometimes when I cry out in my dreams he comes to me, holds me in the night. I know this because I've woken a few times, between the nightmares, and he was there, holding me, protecting me. He's always gone in the morning not wanting any awkwardness between us.

He is still broken. He has nightmares of his own, flashbacks he can't control and memories still clouded by Snow, but he's Peeta again. Sweet, considerate and in love with me. In love with me. It seems so selfish that I do not love him back yet, at least not in the way he loves me, he's done everything he can to show me his affection and still I feel so numb to it. I may always be, but the selfish part of me always want him close by, never wants to lose him again.

Some days, just some days, when the wind blows sweet and the sun heats my cheeks I return to a happier point in my life and I think of how Peeta kissed me on the beach that night, the night I broke us, and I think how I could have let him in, how I could have given my heart to him then. Maybe if I had we could have held on to each others hope and we would not be so broken as we are now. Even my happy days seem bittersweet at best.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" asks Peeta his voice soft in my ear.

"It was mutts. They ripped her throat out in front of me, took her away from me forever," I sob.

"Not real. It was Snow he killed her by bombing an encampment of wounded children during the War," He kisses my temple with feather light lips and squeezes my shoulders in his strong arms.

My heartbeat begins to slow, "Not real...It wasn't real," I murmur to myself. We still play the game Peeta made, real or not real, it's a comforting habit and some times necessary. Waking up is the worst, because often times the reality of things and our nightmares aren't so different.

We must sit there for ten minutes, in the same position, as I calm myself down. I don't understand how Peeta can remain so patient with me, but I'm grateful for his company. I lean over and kiss him on the cheek, its not much, but from the light in his eyes I know it means so much to him.

"Thanks Peeta," I manage to croak as I cross the bed and pad onto the floor, "I think I'll be ok if you want to go shower. I think I should do the same."

"Sounds good," He replies, a smile dazzling me from his blue eyes, "You could do with a fresher smell."

I toss a pillow at his head for the jab he just made, but I'm laughing, and hes out the door and across the hall before I can get a second shot. It feels good to smile, even if it is for just a minute, I feel lighter. I take this feeling with me to the tub. Peeta will shower in the guest bathroom downstairs as he always does, leaving me the claw foot tub in the master bath. He knows I like to soak, sometimes for hours, but not today. Today is a BIG, Big day.

With the recent Mutt Menace the districts along with peacekeepers from the New Capitol are forming small hunting parties. The parties are completely voluntary and no training is necessary upon signing up. Men and Women from age eighteen onward are all welcome, given that they are in sound health and physically fit. Peacekeeper trainers from district Two will be coming to each district for a month long boot camp, training in weapons, new hunting technology developed in Three, and strategy. This starts today and I plan to be on the front lines and no doubt Peeta will be my shadow.

I step out of the tub as close to body base zero as I can get on my own. I haven't been back to the Capitol but once since the war. Peeta and I were invited to a banquet with President Paylor two weeks ago, where plans were made for dealing with the new threat. As a gift to both me and Peeta new doctors and make over teams erased the physical marks of the war on us both, except one for me, leaving me with the scar left by Johanna's blade.

My fingers trace it now. It helps me remember that there are good acts in the world. Although a rather violent act itself is attached to this memory, it was her willingness for sacrifice her willingness to protect me the good and hope inside her that lead her to do everything she did, and this ugly scar helps me remember.

Dressing in comfortable clothes, my hunting boots and my father's jacket I braid my hair as my mother taught me, strand by strand.

"You look beautiful," there in the mirror is Peeta kind as always, looking fresh with his hair still damp from the shower.

"Then I may need to redress. I was going for the you-know-that-girl-helped-fuel-the-rebelion-then-lost-her-mind look," I retort, a glimmer of myself rising to meet him.

"Probably should, what you're currently donning screams that-girl-who-survived-it-all-and-grew-more-gorgeous-and-courageous-than-ever," he crosses his arms smiling smugly at my reflection.

All I can do is shake my head, a small smile creeping into my lips, before I push him out the door and down the stairs to breakfast.

Food has become less of an issue since the War. Grain, cheese and milk are readily available to everyone, but meat has become an issue. Game is disappearing and cattle ranches are being attacked, all thanks to the new mutts. As of now we are able to sustain ourselves, but unless we begin to fight back and soon this may not be the case much longer.

Peeta quickly whips up some muffins, made sweet and tart by wild blueberries he grows out behind the house. I watch him as I fry some squirrel bacon across the kitchen, I could never hope to move so deftly and determinedly in the kitchen as he does. The way he cracks an egg with one hand without wasting a drop of the egg itself is astounding to me. Peeta does most of the cooking and baking for us, Greasy Sae still comes by to make sure we are eating well, but once Peeta moved in with me he took over her daily chore of coming to feed me.

"Mawww."

Disgruntled as always, Buttercup makes his presence known, by climbing on top of a waste bin and mewling loudly at me.

Prim. There she is in my thoughts again, laying dead, her beauty charred away by fire. My sweet Prim, how was it her that had to die in all of this. I was time and time again put in the most dangerous of situations and still I am the one here, in our home, drawing breath, living my life, I couldn't protect her. I lost my Father and because of it my Mother, Prim was all I had...then...nothing. I've lost every bit of family I had to fire and darkness. What selfish thoughts to have when my actions also robbed Peeta of his family all at once. Killer. That name sticks in me like a bloody dagger and I feel I may drop to my knees from the numbness in my core.

A pop of grease lands on my hand, searing me back to this world, I realise I was crying silently as the bacon burned. Peeta rushes over, pulling the pan off of the burner and examining my hand.

"Prim?" he asks.

I simply nod my assent not trusting my voice to hold. I feel so fractured that if I were to say the wrong thing I may just go to pieces on the floor.

Peeta reaches over and plops and glob of honey where my skin is raw and starting to blister. The coolness of the honey, relieves the pain instantly, but Peeta still holds onto me watching, waiting for me to come back. He throws a piece of fat at Buttercup who happily chases it down, leaving the room with Prim's memories on his heels.

"I'm ok now," I breathe no more than a whisper.

Peeta smiles at me, and pulls out a chair at the table, "Your seat my lady," he waves his free had at he chair.

I sit. With something between a grimace and smile drawing the corners of mouth up. A plate is placed in front of me, oatmeal, bacon and muffin all neatly arranged. Peeta pours me a glass of milk.

"You don't have to do this you know," I state more harshly than I intended.

"What?" asks Peeta.

"Wait on me," I answer.

"I know, but I want to. I stopped keeping track but I'm pretty sure I still owe you for saving my life."

I just sit there and eat. I know that I should be more grateful, more accepting of Peeta's affections, but I can't accept them. Why should I, why should a person like me be allowed to be loved someone like him. So many have died for me or because of me, I am a girl bathed in blood, blood that includes Peeta's own. Haymitch was right, I could die a thousand times over and never deserve him, but here he is sitting with me, loving me, blue eyes attempting to devour me and read my innermost fears, trying to help me heal. The girl who breaks down when she sees a cat.

"You know it's rude to stare," I snap, feeling his eyes lingering on me.

Unphased he simply closes his eyes and finishes his meal. A smirk wide across his lips, "Better?" he asks.

My temper dampens, I cannot stay mad at him. Perhaps living with Peeta can heal me in _time_. Each day I feel less, unhinged, my recklessnous and irrational behavior subdued by him. I may never regain peace of my own, but perhaps Peeta will share his and it will be enough to sustain us both. Perhaps I can become someone worthy of his love, if I can save us again. It is this thought that gives me hope now, that I might one day be a person worthy of Peeta.

"Ready for today?" Peeta asks as we clean up.

"Yes. I think a bow might help to clear my head," I answer.

We step out into the street of what used to be the seam transformed now by war and reconstruction, my home. The home I intend to defend this time. Reaching out I grab Peeta's hand. As long as I have Peeta and a fighting spirit I might pull through this all, we, might pull through this all.


End file.
